


Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free

by Heartless_Sigyn (Alexis_Rockford)



Series: Devil or Angel: An MCU-Compliant Logyn Continuity [1]
Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Comics), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AO3 FACEBOOK CHALLENGE, AO3 FB Challenge, AO3 Writers Facebook Group, AO3 Writers Facebook Group Monthly Challenge, Angst and Feels, Boredom, Canon Compliant, F/M, Imprisonment, Jealousy, One Shot, POV Loki (Marvel), References to Shakespeare, Stand Alone, Thor: The Dark World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 15:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15843882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexis_Rockford/pseuds/Heartless_Sigyn
Summary: As if it wasn't bad enough to be robbed of his freedom, Loki spies something else that he wants desperately and can't have...This one-shot fits into the continuity of myDevil or Angelseries, but it can be read as a stand alone. Set during Loki's imprisonment in the Asgardian dungeon inThe Dark Worldand inspired bythislovely piece of fanart, it is also my entry for the August AO3 Facebook Challenge to write a fic based on/inspired by any picture of your choice.





	Let Your Indulgence Set Me Free

Loki leaned back in the too-fancy ornamental chair that had been placed in his cell, hoping that a bit of recklessness would help him feel more alive. He had only been trapped in this bloody dungeon for roughly three months, but it might just as well have been three years. Or three hundred. He was fairly certain that any three of his previous centuries had passed more quickly than the last ninety days. He heard the backrest hit the wall with a dull thud and threw his head back. A sharp thwack followed as his skull made contact as well. The resultant pain was minimal, but at least it added some variance to the wretched solitude and sameness that had become his life.

The guard that was currently patrolling the hallway heard the noise and quickly ran to suss out its source. When he saw Loki leaning against the wall, his eyes closed and his face twisted in tortured agony, he called, “Milord, are you alright?”

If Loki’s eyes were opened, only the whites would have been showing. “The correct question to ask would be ‘are you dying?’ In either case, the answer is no, I am most certainly not alright, and yes, I am dying. I am suffering from the slowest, most painful death in all the universe. I am dying of boredom!” His voice increased in volume on every syllable so that by the last word, he was fairly screaming at the unfortunate soldier who had been stationed to guard his living tomb.

“Sorry, I asked,” the other man muttered. He gestured toward the stacks of leather volumes piled on the floor. “You could read a book,” he suggested with a shrug.

Loki’s eyes snapped open and the chair’s legs came down with a bang. “Oh, why didn’t I think of that?” he said, venom fairly dripping in his tone. “Perhaps because I’ve already read these each a thousand times!” He picked up the nearest one and chucked it at the invisible barrier that separated him from the rest of the prison. It ricocheted off and fell to the floor in a disappointing heap of leather and paper.

The guard looked at him and then at the book and then back to him. He slowly shook his head and shambled off to check on the other inmates.

Loki crossed his arms defiantly and prepared to settle into a self-indulgent sulk. He affixed his brilliant blue-green glare on the unfortunate object of his wrath. Upon further inspection, he realised that he had been abusing his everyday copy of _The Complete Works of Shakespeare._ Sighing, he dragged himself out of his seat and retrieved it. Fortunately, it was not his priceless First Folio that he had mutilated. He doubted he could ever forgive himself if that were the case. As he turned it right side up, he noticed that the book had opened to _The Tempest_.

 _Now my charms are all o’erthrown_ , he read from the top of the page. He scoffed appreciatively at the irony and sank to the floor. That was about right. There was some sort of magic dampener in this fishbowl that limited his use of spells to the bare minimum. Thankfully, he was still allowed to maintain the enchantment that retained his Aesir form. He could only imagine the mocking that would ensue if the guards spotted a Frost Giant among their charges. Likewise, his Silvertongue had failed him. Although they had removed the muzzle from him before presenting him to his father for sentencing, it seemed his powers of persuasion were at an all-time low as well. Neither of the charms he had relied upon for so long could get him out of this predicament.

Before he could fully begin to wallow in self pity, his acute hearing picked up the sound of footsteps approaching. He quickly cast his eyes down to the book in his lap and pretended to read.

“Are you down here, Theoric?” came a familiar voice. A voice that he hadn’t heard in over a year at least. His pulse quickened as he surreptitiously glanced up and saw a female figure in a billowing burgundy dress approach. He slunk further into the corner of the room so she wouldn’t see him sitting there looking pathetic.

The guard he had just railed at came back from his patrol down the hall to the right. “Is that you, Sigyn?”

She laughed and pirouetted a couple times. “I’m not surprised you didn’t recognise me. I changed my hair to match my new gown.”

Theoric grinned a big goofy grin that caused his entire face to light with excitement. “‘Tis very... nice,” he said with a touch of uncertainty.

She dropped a fake curtsy. “Why, thank you, young man,” she said as though she had just noticed him there.

Theoric seemed puzzled for a moment, then he chuckled briefly. “Sigyn, you are hilarious,” he said in a voice that indicated he had no idea why he should have found her words humorous.

Loki rested his forehead on the inside of his book. Not only could he not see any more of this ridiculous interchange, but his position had the added benefit of wafting the scent of ink and paper directly into his nostrils. Clearly, freedom was wasted on all the wrong people.

With his eyes so close to the printing, it was far more difficult to read the Bard’s words, but he thought he could make out: _Release me from my bands_. Once again, the phrase proved only too apt.

He considered his situation as their banal conversation continued. He had been sentenced to what was, in essence, a lifetime of solitary confinement. The only souls he had encountered over the past three months had been the ever-rotating parade of guards and Frigga, his mother, who sometimes deigned to communicate with her recalcitrant son via mental wave image. His brother had attempted a visitation once, but had been immediately rebuffed. There was no way he would let that smug, self-satisfied cur gloat over him. After all, it was his fault he had been caught in the first place. If it hadn’t been for Thor, he would be sitting pretty as the Emperor of Midgard, and Asgard would be safe from Thanos forever. That stupid brainless oaf had ruined everything.

Not only was he completely alone, but he also had literally nothing to do. Loki, who had bored easily at the best of times, was slowly losing what little sanity he had left due to sheer idleness. The one bad thing about having a genius-level intellect was that it tended to atrophy quickly with no project to fixate upon. Loki swore that he could feel his mind dulling with each passing hour. This was infuriating, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it, save reading the same pile of books over and over until he had memorised every last line. He could now perform any role in the entire Shakespearean canon without glancing at his script once. He smiled to think what a charming mad Ophelia he would make. Perhaps this skill would come in handy some day if he ever got out of here, but he sincerely doubted it.

Over the top of the book, he glimpsed Theoric gently putting his arm on his fiancee’s shoulder. “You really shouldn’t be down here,” he said, his brown eyes darting around the room. “There are several unsavoury characters here who would love to prey on a woman of your beauty.” He nodded his head in the direction of Loki’s cell, and the god of mischief ducked completely out of the view of the window that made up the front wall of his cell. _Was this moron serious?_

He needn’t have worried, for Sigyn didn’t even turn his way. Instead, she laced her hand around her fiance’s bull neck and playfully tugged on the chestnut queue of his hair. “I can take care of myself, Theoric,” she said so softly that he had to strain to hear it. Then, she nuzzled into the crook of his neck, sighing in contentment.

As Loki cautiously peered around the corner, adrenaline exploded in his chest. If he didn’t know better, he would think he was having a heart attack. But he had felt this rush of heat so many times before that he knew it by name. His old enemy, jealousy, had reared its disgusting head again, and he had neither the strength nor the inclination to beat it back down. He reasoned that he did not covet Sigyn per se, but just the idea of her, the thought that so many people across the Nine Realms had found their other half, and he was sitting here cracked into a million pieces in this dismal little cell. The injustice of the situation tore at his throat like a rabid wolf, refusing to let him go and infecting him with even further madness.

 _And my ending is despair._ The words on the page mocked him afresh. He had a sudden urge to tear them out and burn them, but his fire magic had been sealed. Despair was a good description of what he felt right now. A crushing hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him just as surely as the Chitauri army had besieged the metahumans in New York. At that moment, he realised that even if he managed to escape this physical confinement, he would never truly be free. Envy and guilt would be his constant companions as long as he lived. They were shackled to his soul with chains stronger than any forged by the dwarves of Nidavellir. No matter what he did, he could not escape their powerful grasp.

Just then, Sigyn’s bright blue eyes turned in his direction. He was fairly certain she hadn’t seen him, but the blood rushed to his head all the same. Her gaze wasn’t judgmental or frightened, merely curious. She blinked slowly for a few moments before recognition lit her face. “Isn’t that Prince Loki’s cell?” she asked.

Theoric nodded. “Aye, but how did you know that? He’s apparently hiding again.”

She frowned, creases appearing on her usually smooth features. “Does he do that often?”

Theoric shrugged. “Often enough. He apparently has nothing better to do with his time, the old rascal. He also likes to bash his pate against the wall for a giggle.”

Loki cringed to see the look of pity that swept across her face. “Well, he has to be bored silly just sitting there all day with naught to do but feel sorry for himself.”

Theoric snorted in a way that reminded Loki of an angry bull. “Whatever anguish he suffers he has brought upon himself.”

“That may be true,” Sigyn countered, “but that does not mean he is undeserving of some compassion.”

Loki’s heart warmed at her words. Sigyn had never been his loyalest supporter. Well, she _had_ been once, but that was many years ago. He never could quite recall what exactly he had done to alienate her so thoroughly. But if she could summon enough empathy for his plight, maybe it wasn’t too late for him. Perhaps someday he would be able to earn his way back into the good graces of his mother or even Thor. More importantly, he might yet find the courage to forgive himself.

In the angst of the moment, Loki had entirely forgotten how Prospero’s final speech ended. _As you from crimes would pardoned be, / Let your indulgence set me free._ Forgiveness and mercy were still waiting out there, patiently biding their time before showering their blessings. If he could hold out for a little while longer, he might see the sun again. For now, his story ended on an uncertain note, just as Prospero’s had. But there was hope, glowing faintly at the end of the long night and promising a new morning. If and when it arrived, he would be ready.

Until then, there was always Shakespeare. No one knew suffering like his old friend, Will. _I think it’s time to reread_ Macbeth, Loki thought dryly as he turned a new page.

**Author's Note:**

> Loki's _First Folio_ \- The _First Folio_ , published in 1623, is the earliest complete collection of Shakespeare's plays. There are currently 235 known surviving copies, although new ones seem to turn up every couple years. Loki's fictional edition makes 236.
> 
>  _The Tempest_ \- the last play that Shakespeare ever wrote, _The Tempest_ is the story of a Duke named Prospero whose kingdom was overthrown by his brother while he was too busy studying the mystic arts. At the beginning of the play, Prospero has been banished to a deserted island with his daughter, Miranda. He conjures a storm which causes his brother and a few other characters to be shipwrecked on the island with him. By the end of the play, Prospero has decided to forgive his brother's betrayal and return with him to his Dukedom. However, he realises that he has caused his own share of mischief with his magic. In the final scene, he breaks his staff and gives up his powers, begging the audience to forgive him for any harm he has done. The quotes in this fic are from this final speech.
> 
> "Magic dampener" - For further explanation of how this works, please see chapter 12 of _Devil in Disguise_
> 
> "mad Ophelia" - a character from _Hamlet_ who goes insane and drowns herself.
> 
> “mental wave image” - this is the term used in the comics for the ability to send a hologram image of oneself to communicate with others.
> 
> "his fire magic" - Loki has the ability to throw fireballs in the comics. He hasn't ever displayed this power in the MCU, but it pleases me to think he could if he so desired.
> 
> Loki and Sigyn's falling out - once again, if you are interested in this story, please see _Devil in Disguise,_ chapter 10
> 
> "his old friend, Will" - in my headcanon, Loki was good friends with William Shakespeare. The epilogue of _Devil in Disguise_ will touch on this.


End file.
